Duchesstopaz - Essence

Curious lil Asta

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Pride is also not pride by sweeping racism in white queer communities under the carpet.

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, harassment, trauma, hospitalizations, breakdowns, triggers, depression, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 3

12:06pm

That incident with the driver triggered me, so badly to the point where for the next week, it was like I was back with Dad and with my step-dad. I couldn’t separate my past reality with my present one. And, 4 days in, I stopped going to classes. I missed 2 weeks by the time that I almost acted on my su*c*d*al ideations. I stopped myself though, and told my therapist. She suggested I go to an in-patient hospital down the road at Emory, and I took it. But, it made everything worse, and I regretted it.

I went without telling anyone, and I thought the school would handle all necessary communications with my teachers, like they said they would, but they didn’t. I was bitter and sad and angry and numb the moment I stepped out of the hospital after almost a week. Then, I spoke to you and the New York Plan started.

You were the first and only person that I told about the hospital. I thought you would be mad at me, at least I made myself believe that. But, you were the opposite, you were mad at Emory like I was, and after you told me what you went through to try to find me, I thought you were finally starting to understand why I didn’t like it at Emory. You were fiercely protective of me like you always have been, and I knew that my big sister had me.

But then, you called back later that day and said that I should fly out to New York the next day, and for the first time, you scared me. Everything was moving too fast all of a sudden, and me, being where I was, just out of the hospital and so ready to die, I was so ready to come to you, but the logical side of me pumped the brakes so hard and so fast.

Of course, I needed the support, I wanted the support, but there was no way that I could just up and leave, but also, leave and then what? We didn’t talk about that first. I had to think about my college trajectory, how things would change, what I would be risking, what and who I would leave behind. Everything was too much to work out to just leave the next day. I processed and understood that enough to take a pause, which in hindsight, I really commend myself for.

The next 2 weeks were awful. I was breaking down crying almost every night, trying to wrestle with the fact of leaving not just just Emory, but the life that I had staked everything and was failing to maintain. I was losing an already lost battle, but it was just catching up to me. When my professors told me that I either would need to leave or fail my classes, when my therapist was pushing for me to go, when my advisor told me leaving would save my full-ride scholarship. The world decided for me what would be next, and I watched my world shatter. It was heartbreaking and frustrating and so filled to the brim with grief that I was drowning, truly, when I already thought I was. But, there was you and there was Gem.

And even though I had a January deadline to meet and the pressure equaled my sorrow, I knew what to be done. So, I filed the medical leave, and jumped on the plane.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

It's June 1. It's time.

Go be gay.

The orange kitty presented...

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and passing, grief, loss of family members, illnesses, and emotional breakdowns.*

Thursday, Oct. 27th, 2022

4:46pm

Dear Me, 

It’s a beautiful day today as I sit here at an espresso bar. It’s a clear, sunny day with a chill breeze, I feel comfortable without a jacket. This afternoon, I woke up at almost 1 o’clock, which is very late, but it felt amazing getting up. It was sort of a dead sleep, but because I fell asleep at almost 5:30 this morning, I guess it was worth it.

Angel was able to get her car, even though it was terribly difficult and infuriating. Gem has been really stressed lately and has a lot on her plate because of work, and it has me worried about her.

I feel like today has been probably the best day for me since I’ve moved to New York City 10 days ago. My mind is the clearest it’s been in a long while, and I actually feel more present. Life and the world around me feels tangible and touchable and I feel like an active part of the it today. I hope it lasts!

I’ve been listening to Demi Lovato’s new album lately, and I think that the pop punk/ pop rock genre might be a resonate genre of music for me. This album speaks to me in a way that Willow’s album did in a similar way. It’s an album filled with grief, longing, rage, desire, and love. I’m noticing that I’m gravitating towards the slower songs and those with interpolated meanings. This album is heavy with trauma and seeking relief, and I heavily relate and never knew I needed this album or genre in my life right now. I feel seen and heard by this album and it feels elevating as well as relieving to have this. I think my favorite songs are Substance, Eat Me, City of Angels, and 4 Ever 4 Me.

Part 2

sharkboy and lavagirl

Friendships are such an interesting component of humanity. They truly serve us in a valuable way in terms of finding connection, interaction, community, and belonging. It’s fascinating and colorful to also see how different people think and value friendship and companionship. I had a rough conversation with my mother about some problems that I have been having about my own friendships at the moment. She brought up the fact that she doesn’t rely on friendships that much because she had a strong relationship to her family that she knew would never waver. She saw reoccurring patterns in the people that she attempted to be friends with, was continuously hurt by people that were a risk to trust, so she realized that friendship wasn’t that important to her.

There is always a risk when you meet someone, or are trying to make friends, or start a new relationship. Deciding what, when, how, and why you want to share with people is always risky, and exposing and opening yourself to people is always a hard thing to do. But why is it so easy for me? I actually find a lot of comfort and release when I open up to people and share who I am with people. I feel like I am getting closer to knowing my authentic self when I let go of expectations and hesitations about who people think I am when I just honestly tell people about myself. However, as a sophomore in college, I have learned to fear that side of myself. I have learned the patterns of hurt and betrayal that surround me with friendships, and even the problems that I am experiencing right now with my friends follow the same trend. I value and think of friendships to be a deeper connection than what most people think for themselves. My family never served to treat me in a loving, caring, affectionate, stable way, and didn’t teach and show me how relationships work and function. Through the abuse and trauma that they inflicted on me, I don’t have a safe space that my mother had when she was growing up. She had a bright, caring family to come back to, I have a dark chasm of self hatred and longing. A chasm that is reserved and meant to be filled by the love, affirmation, and belonging by my family.

So I look to friendships instead to fill that chasm. I pour my all into trying to build a support system through friendships that grow. Being seen, recognized, accepted, and loved put the pieces back together that have always been broken inside me. But the pieces only held together by aging glue. Until they fall apart again because those seemingly supportive friendships weren’t as supportive as I was led to believe. I have a twisted view on friendships, believing that the way that I see and value my friends are, by default, the same way that my friends see and value me, but that is a lie that I keep telling myself. I don’t mean the same thing to them, the same way they mean to me. Why is that so hard for me to understand and live with? Maybe it’s because they will never be the family that I should have received growing up. Maybe it’s because I have too much baggage to be supported by the unstable connections between us that I am desperately relying on. Maybe I am looking in all the wrong places for something that will never be found because the time for that has long passed. Or maybe the problem is just me?

My friends do not owe me anything. My friends are not obligated to constantly support me and fill/fix the everlasting holes within me. Do I address my issues with them? Even when I know that they probably will be offended by what I have to say? I am putting them in an impossibly difficult place. But is it so wrong of me to not to want to be alone? Is it wrong of me to want to feel like I am not broken or damaged, and want to feel like I have people I can come back to no matter what? But maybe that opportunity is not meant for me anymore. Maybe this is all I am meant to get from relationships at this point. I should be more grateful for what I have, for my friends, and for everything that they have done for me, but I can’t help but want for more. But alas, friendships aren’t meant to be used for self-gratification, for me to feel liked, loved, accepted. For me to feel like me, just once, in my fucked up life. please… But maybe this is a sign that instead of trying so hard to get something that is impossible to get, I should learn to live and adapt to what people’s emotional capacities are. I should be willing to sacrifice my wants, needs and desires, and be real with the rest of the world. Because in reality, the time has passed for the world to be able to meet my wants, needs, and desires. Now the world will never be enough.

There is so much more I could say about this, but there is not enough room. Remember to check with reality rather than believing conspiracy theories promoted, supported, and funded by white nationalist hate groups.

Missouri is proposing 20% of the nation’s anti-trans legislation this session. Gender-affirming care for young folks is on the edge of being criminalized (so much love to trans friends in states where that has already happened).

Please keep up with the anti-trans legislation in your state and combat it. There are lives at stake.

Transphobes do not touch this post.

Image ID: a 10-image cartoon comic featuring Joey, a boy with short hair.

Image 1: Joey, upset, gesticulates towards an open laptop. Text reads: The reality of St. Louis trans kids. Last week, a former (non-medical) employee of Washington University’s Pediatric Transgender Center was featured in a viral article about how the clinic was “rushing” kids into medical care and “mutilating” us. Every single thing she said was a lie, but the media loves it. Footnote reads: I wouldn’t give any more attention to this, but it is immediately endangering the lives of trans people. Missouri has launched a state investigation and is actively attempting to criminalize gender-affirming care based on conspiracy theories.

Image 2: Joey points to a map of the United States where Missouri is singled out, and a map of Missouri where St. Louis is indicated with a star. The text reads: The Transgender Center, located in St. Louis, Missouri, has been the target of hateful attacks from the far-right state legislature for years. It is part of Washington University Hospital, a branch of a prestigious private university.

Image 3: A younger Joey injects his T shot in his leg while someone takes a photo. Text reads: I can tell you that everything in the article is false because I received care at the Transgender Center beginning at 16 years old. My medical transition has brought me nothing but joy. What a gift it is to be trans!

Image 4: A younger Joey sits on a couch and stims with a tangle fidget toy. Text reads: No one is “rushed”. I sat on many waitlists, had to have 6 months of specialized gender therapy and a diagnosis of gender dysphoria before even being referred to the Center, and I was denied as “not ready enough” by an endocrinologist the first time I finally got an appointment. Footnote reads: If you’re curious about what it looks like to be a trans kid, I did another piece on that! Check out tinyurl.com/transkidscomictumblr.

Image 5: A colorful map of the United States shows how many states have a Negative Gender Identity Policy Tally and how many states have criminalized gender affirming care. Joey holds a credit card. Text reads: St. Louis’ Pediatric Transgender Center is the only one in the region, meaning the waitlists are extremely long. Plus, no one in the only industrialized country without free healthcare is getting medical care for fun. Many American trans folks have to fundraise for our care.

Image 6: Joey, distressed, sits on a couch while talking on the phone. The person on the other end says: “That’s me!” Text reads: This former employee spoke about specific cases, and patients have been able to identify themselves. She shared our private medical info and called us horrifying.

Image 7: This is split into two panels. In the first, Joey holds up a box of condoms and a packet of birth control pills. Texts reads: She especially hated trans men such as myself, saying that trans ideology was destroying “girls”. She lamented about hormones making us “sterile”, which is a complete lie. We trans mascs have to actively prevent pregnancy. In panel two stands a doctor. Text reads: Every time I had an appointment at the Center, doctors reminded me: Remember: testosterone is not a contraceptive! Footnote reads: The wonderful Erin Reed wrote a breakdown debunking all the lies in the article. See tinyurl.com/erinreedmissouri.

Image 8: Joey, masked, sits at a circular table with his brother, an unmasked boy with fluffy short hair. Joey’s brother is showing him his phone. Text reads: Major newspapers continue to platform these complete lies because they bring in engagement and money. The Washington Post tracked down my little brother’s personal cell phone number to try to get in contact with our mom – the president of an organization supporting trans kids in Missouri. Freaky, right?

Image 9: Joey, looking disgusted, leans against a door frame while talking on a cell phone. Text reads: But no one wants to talk with me, the adult who medically transitioned at this clinic as a minor and has not “desisted” in six years. The Washington Post reporter, who didn’t know anything about trans people, talked with me for 20 minutes and used a sentence of mine in an article about “both sides of the debate”. She didn’t mention that this former employee is being legally represented by a recognized anti-LGBT hate group, nor that all of her claims are unsupported by reality or science.

Image 10: Joey looks angry and gesticulates. Beside the drawing are two photos of Joey, one of him happy in front of a trans flag, and the other of him drawing up testosterone to take his first T shot. Text reads: There is no debate. There are trans people, and there are people who want us dead. There is truth and there are conspiracy theories. Where is my viral article in a major paper?

Published Feb 16, 2023. End ID.